


Ratcatcher's Day Off

by TheNarcolepticOne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 17:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarcolepticOne/pseuds/TheNarcolepticOne
Summary: In the wake of an ongoing catastrophe, a mysterious Piper shows up amidst the chaos with nothing but a flute and horrific fashion sense. Pied Piper of Hamelin spin-off; USUK





	Ratcatcher's Day Off

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this was my entry for the UKUSUK twice per year entry. Please check out the whole work of Non-Disney Fairy Tales ([here](https://usukustwiceperyear.tumblr.com/post/171365425966/non-dsney-usukus-fairy-tales-a-collection-of)). There's a lot of amazing artists and writers and you guys should totally check this out!

It started out as a problem that perhaps shouldn’t have been handled as lightly as it could have been at the time. The King was a busy man after all; overseeing the many grievances of the town was not a job that could be done by just anyone. He often had to deal with worse situations, so a rat infestation problem was the least of his worries. Rats could so easily be killed with knives and traps, so why even consider that a liability on top of land disputes, business rivalries and diplomatic arguments between other neighboring kingdoms? It was the last thing on King’s mind to consider. 

And yet, though no one wanted to say so, there was an ongoing underground rumor that this began when the King had decreed the land to be cat-less on the account of his son being incredibly allergic. 

But nonetheless, no matter how it could have ever started, there was no soul who could have ever predicted the magnitude of what could have happened next. It was about four months into the year when the King obtained at least twenty reports of resident infestations, along with violent crop destruction and housing damage. At five months in, the rodents had spread to the East where the winter supply was kept. At six months in, the West fjords and fishing areas had become entirely uninhabitable. And after all this had built up, it was only then that the King had declared a state of emergency; to maintain as many citizens as close to the central kingdom as possible despite the crowded space and quickly diminishing supplies.  
It becomes a late call for action. And the King’s son, Prince Arthur of Albion, also agreed with the people that this announcement was entirely and poorly facilitated. But not even a prince could face the courage to fight against the King’s ego; one wrong move and either a citizen or the Prince himself could be sent to exile up into the terrifying Mountain of Demise to fend against snow. So it was a system of play along, while also perhaps a conclusive and collective moment of embracing eventual doom to befall them. 

Within this wasteland, however, there was a whistling tune that echoed loudly into the barren and empty towns. An upbeat song, one that chimed of enthusiastic moments of mirth and joy. Of getting along. Of excitement and positivity. It’s a sound that made the birds overhead hop into a line fearlessly, just next to the bounding squirrels and chirping raccoons. The sight is unexpected, of course. Such animals wouldn’t ever be considered as friends, much less dancing partners. But even the most stubborn of imaginators found themselves unable to look away from the sight, as just through the entrance of the central kingdom revealed an intriguing fellow with a flute to his lips and a parade of critters in his entourage. The kids pointed. The adults gawked. And he didn’t seem to mind at all at the attention.   
And kicker? It made people _laugh_. Even if they perhaps weren’t expecting to. To them, there became no thought about rats or starvation, it seemed. It’s as if it were an infestation of its own; one that upheld an aura of happiness rather than something as unappealing as rats. Some of the kids who had heard the melody first ran to other areas of the town to report what they had seen; what they had experienced. 

“Come see the strange man and his incredible flute! Surely even the most miserly individuals can’t help but laugh! It’s a tune that holds such an incredible feeling… the man must be a deity!”

An elaborate rumor like this does not last long under the word of mouth. This does not take long to reach the King. And when he heard this news, he became furious.

“A deity they say? Why, that’s more powerful than me! Who the hell could ever pull off such an elaborate facade? Bring him to me!”

* * *

 

Prince Arthur sat upon the throne right next to his father in a chair that denoted a design of inferiority, albeit still adorning an astonishing amount of gemstones and gold thread. He had a look of dignified displeasure, of course. It echoed the one that was upon his own father’s face, and the two of them waited patiently right in their positions while the guards began to ‘escort’ the visitor in. Escort, perhaps, in the context of being held by the under arms and thrown onto the red carpet upon the floor as an implied symbol of bowing, in the case the man was stupid enough not to bow. 

He’s wearing something that highlighted the characteristics of a jester, with bright blues and reds littering his entire clothing scheme. Tight fitting leggings, shoes with curly tips, shoulder blades with bells and worst of all, the hat that rested upon his head had a rather obnoxiously bright white feather sticking out from it. 

The Prince can’t help but bite the bottom of his lip when the man just straightened up, giving the guards a dirty look before glaring directly at his father without a fear in the world.    
The Prince concludes that the man is stupid enough not to bow. The King just exhales sharply. 

“Who are you?” the King demands in a haughty voice. “A jester that claims to be a deity? Explain yourself, peasant. I’ve not much patience for a man who cannot show respect to his leaders.”

Prince Arthur curled his toes tightly. But he blinked when the jester man meets his gaze. And gave him the brightest smile. It was warm. Welcoming. And he bowed. The Prince couldn’t help but bite his tongue now. The jester wiggled his toes to make the bells jingle.  
“My name is Alfred F. Jones, your Majesty. Piper extraordinaire, exceptional singer in some parts, incredible animal tamer in others.”

The King raises an eyebrow. “And your purpose being here in my kingdom?”

“A tourist entertainer,” the man adjusts his position to then smile at the King. “I wanted see what an incredibly beautiful land this was rumored to be from the merchants. But it turns out, it’s less of a kingdom and really more of a pigsty.”

The Prince widened his eyes and his manicured fingernails gripped the arm rests of his mini chair. The  _ audacity _ to even insult a King like that? Arthur couldn’t help but eventually cover his mouth to restrain his smile. 

Honestly, this was the most entertaining kind of audacity he had ever seen anyone attempt in his life.

“How  _ dare _ ,” the King started. His face is as red as an ripe apple and just as swollen as one too before Alfred is then seen to bow profusely as an interruption. The King narrowed his eyes at this.

“Forgive me for the brashness of that statement, sire,” Alfred said dismissively. “I was just afraid that I was not aware of what kind of strange event that has befallen your land. Truthfully, I must admit that the presence of these rats would make  _ anyone _ think that this kingdom belonged to  _ them _ rather than to you, your Majesty.”

Prince Arthur pressed the palm of his hand closer to his mouth, perhaps, to stifle laughter to the best of his ability when the King is seen visibly calming down. The only noticeable thing that Arthur denoted then is a swift wink.

“Well, indeed. I’m sure there can be a misconception to think so. I’ve unable to think of any way to rid of these scavengers.” the King crossed his arms and huffed rather childishly. “I cannot allow cats into this kingdom, as my son here is allergic to such creatures. I’d rather not sacrifice my bloodline in the place of my people. Isn’t that right, Arthur?”  
Arthur swallowed. His voice broke when he replied, and he blushed. “I-I’m grateful for your kind generosity to me, Father.”

The King does not spare Arthur a glance. But he does continue to look at Alfred with a pique of interest. 

“So. Your… title. You mentioned that one of your many talents includes… animal taming?”

Alfred saluted, lifting his flute with the hand he saluted with. “Indeed, sire. There isn’t any animal I can’t tame.”

The King appeared amused. “Isn’t there?”

“Well, there hasn’t been any that I’ve yet encountered, no.” Alfred shook the flute in his hands. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”

The King rose an eyebrow. “As much as I’d like to not believe it, rumors cannot be without some indication of truth. I’d like to see it. Guards,”

Prince Arthur watched as the castle guards bring in two leashed dobermans, both barking and snarling while trying angrily to escape their captors. They snarled at Alfred when they near him, lunging and standing on their hind legs while they tried to stretch themselves closer him.

“Let’s see if you can tame those two,” the King said, clearly tickled by his own idea of a practical joke. “Impress me.”

Without missing a beat, Alfred picked up his flute to his lips and blows. The result is instant. The second the tune began to play, the dogs immediately sat, patiently wagging their stubby tails and swaying their head to the song.

Oddly enough, this did not just affect the dogs. The guards holding the leashes also seemed to exhibit a kind of similar head swaying. They looked quite stupefied, both expressing rather drunk-like smiles as they loosened their grip on the leashes and lifted their fingers to the rhythm. The King was no different, also seeming to then laugh, clapping his hands and stomp his foot along with Alfred’s performance. It’s incredibly ridiculous. 

And yet, as Alfred spun around and danced, Arthur noticed that his eyes were closed. And when they opened again, Alfred’s gaze met Arthur’s a second time. 

Prince Arthur just stared at him back; eyebrows furrowed and obviously confused, but not at all dancing like the rest of everyone else. The tune is nice, yes. But Arthur is just more surprised that his own father was taking interest into the music when Arthur himself couldn’t quite see what was so enchanting about it.

Alfred’s gaze doesn’t stray from Arthur’s as he drops the flute from his lips, gaping. The second he does, the guards are heard screaming as the dobermans began to chase them out of the room almost comically. Alfred blinks to focus himself, and the King then seemed to hum in delight.   
“What a performance!” the King exclaimed, clapping with such force that his hands seem to be already red from the action. “Bravo! Truly, perhaps, something almost worthy enough to live up to expectation.”

“O-Of course, sire.” Alfred shook his head as he then cleared his throat. “I do my best.”

“What is it that you’d like for me to repay you when you accomplish this deed? A home? A job application open to become my official court jester?”

Alfred glanced up in thought. “Hmm. That’s tempting but… I’d like to have half your kingdom, your Majesty.”  
The King’s smile disappeared.  “You… you what?”

“Half the kingdom, or I won’t do it, sire.” Alfred crossed his arms. “Nor will I perform anywhere in this land until I am allowed to call half of it my own.”

A growl of frustration erupted from the King’s throat before he then just waved his hand dismissively at him. “Fine. But only if you manage to remove all of the rats by tomorrow morning.”

“Deal.”

* * *

 

The haunting melody eventually became louder in the dark of the evening, prompting Prince Arthur to turn his head to the sound and continue in that direction amidst the almost blindingly dim forest. He hugged the coat closer to his body, shivering only a little at the breeze. Winter was soon coming, of course. And yet, instead of having to worry so much about a town and their resources like a proper prince should, Arthur had taken the opportunity to instead just find the energy to yell at Alfred for playing the same damn song over and over again. 

The poor man had been at it since the King had proclaimed it, and despite the fact that he didn’t want to really interrupt whatever it is that magic he had, he still wanted to ask. It certainly felt less like a talent and more like a magic trick to Arthur, honestly. One that reeked of some foreign concept of spells and witchcraft. And though Arthur himself perhaps, in theory, shouldn’t have snuck out of the castle if he was in the immediate danger of a warlock, he preferred the freedom of it. As well as maybe then getting Alfred to explain a little more about what’s beyond the kingdom boundaries. 

The song stopped, and a hand eventually plopped down onto his shoulder, causing him to scream and instantly lash out in the direction he felt the hand.

“Hey hey! Relax!” the voice called. “It’s me.”

Arthur was gasping, leaning against the tree for the moment. Being a prince of leisure, he ran out of breath extremely quick. There was a laugh that followed, and Arthur rolled his eyes as he averted his gaze.   
“Aww. So what are you doin’ out here, little Princey?”  
“Well. To be frank,” the Prince sighed. “Call me Arthur. And two, it’s... it’s because I’m just really wondering more about what you’re… really all about, Jones.”

Alfred rose an eyebrow. He was still wearing the same outfit from the time at the castle, but his voice sounded… a little bit winded. The break would do Alfred some good, Arthur thought. “Funny you should say that,” Alfred continues, rubbing the back of his neck as he holds his flute in the other. “I’m actually really confused about something about you too.”

Before Arthur could speak, there was a sudden clump of the ground moving, prompting Arthur to once again gasp before impulsively scrambling up the nearest tree. Alfred laughed again.   
“Scared of mice, Artie?”  
“ _Arthur_. And not when there are about enough to eat through me.”

Alfred shrugged. “They’re pretty much harmless, though. They just like it here because there’s a lot of food. But I already convinced most of them to leave. So you don’t gotta worry about these guys.”

Arthur just chose to remain right in his seat on the tree branch. “... Well. Perhaps I should thank you for that. But… I do have to still ask you,” Arthur met his gaze. “Why do you need half a kingdom’s worth of land anyway? What do you even plan to use it for? Yourself?”

Alfred just leans his back against a tree. “... nah. Not just for me. I just gotta find a place to live. Need all this space for practice.”

“Practice what? What could possibly need all that space?”

“Maa--” Alfred clears his throat. “Flute practice.”  
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You were going to say magic, weren’t you?”  
“Wow. Ain’t half bad, Artie.” Alfred whistled. “Figured me out yet, have you?”  
“I suspected as much. You’re a warlock.” Arthur hissed. “So. You want to have a place to live and with a big living area to practice all of your practice spells and such. Am I right?”  
“A bit so. Though, before all that though-”

“I’m right,” Arthur sighs in relief. “But you already know my father isn’t going to give you that land so easily?”

Alfred blinked. “He’s not?”  
“You think I don’t know my own father that well enough? He’s probably going to cheat you and use that magic trick of yours as his lullaby in the evenings times.” Arthur crossed his arms. “At the most, he’ll probably let you take one of our dogs. Just to humor you.”

Alfred groaned. “Are you _ kidding  _ me? Six hours of convincing the Rat Queen and the next thing he decides to do is screw me over like  _ this _ ?” He looked at his flute before just seeming to hold it from its end point. It seemed to resemble a wand of sorts, Arthur noted.

“Well,” Arthur thought practically. “I suppose the one place I could ever think of that would have a lot of space would be up in the Mountain of Demise. But no one has ever really been up there and down again to tell the tale.”

Alfred smiled. “Actually, with a name like that, I’m sure it would mean a lot of people also stay away too. That would be entirely perfect for my research!”

Alfred went over to Arthur before, snapping his fingers. Arthur felt the wind rush beneath him, almost cradling him in his seated position so that he could come down from the tree gently. When Arthur eventually reached the ground, Alfred instantly grabbed his hand, shaking it.   
“Thanks so much, Arthur!” he said with a smile. “You’re not going to believe how many places are inhabited by people nowadays! It’s hard to find that alone time and space, you know?”

“Erm-”

“Oh! And also before I forget to ask you,” Alfred chimed happily. “I was just wondering about how you were able to rest that charm of a spell? It’s pretty difficult to resist it, in my opinion. Pop told me all the ins and outs about all those kinds of tricks. But never taught me how to resist ‘em before he kicked the bucket, unfortunately.”

“... er, okay, but-”

“But the only things that I know who can resist a spell without even trying is either a warlock in disguise or just someone who doesn’t know that they’re a--”

Alfred widened his eyes and grinned as he nudged him. “Hey. Congratulations. You’re a wizard, Artie.”

“ _ Excuse me. _ ” Arthur said this with a volume rather intrusive and rude.

Alfred put his hands up. “Sheesh.”  
Arthur adjusted his coat before crossing his arms. “Alright. I don’t understand at _all_ about what you’re saying about me being a wizard or something. You can’t expect me to believe everything you say! You’re a trickster and a liar! Hell, I’m not even sure if this whole rat infestation thing was because of your _own_ doing!”

“Woah. Hey. Calm down a sec-”

“How in the  _ world _ can I be calm?! What am I supposed to do now? Do I tell my father about this? How are you even sure I can even produce magic, let alone even resist it?!” Arthur is shaking.

“Hey.”

It takes a while before Alfred puts his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. “Listen. As much as I’d like to just leave you and your Pop alone, I really think you should leave with me on this.”  
“Leave with _you_?! And how is _that_ supposed to make me feel any better about all this?!”

Alfred frowned. “Calm down first. Your father might not like the fact that you might be more powerful than him. You know that guy has a preference for a high self image, right?”

Arthur did take a moment to pause then. Perhaps it didn’t matter. He would still be banished to the Mountain of Demise regardless, if he went with Alfred or somehow express himself to be whatever wizard he was supposed to be. But at least through one way, he wasn’t entirely alone going. He gave Alfred a raised eyebrow before narrowing his eyes.  “So. Say I do go with you. What do we do then?”  
“Practice with me!” he declared easily, as if it were the most obvious answer. “I’ve never really met any other wizards in real life other than my Pop. You’d be the first friend, I mean. If that’s a motivation. Or boyfriend. I swing both ways.”

Arthur sputtered. “W-What makes you think that I’d want _you_ as a boyfriend, let alone even get a husband in the first place?”  
Alfred grinned. “You looked at me from my feet to my face instead of looking at my face first. 

Arthur felt his face light up and he clenched his teeth. “Bit of a detective, are you? I hope someone sexuality isn’t the first thing you look for in a person.”

“Hardly,” Alfred snorted. “You aristocratic types aren’t always so hard to read. But we might as well get going right now, yeah? Before morning comes?”

Arthur frowned. “And what? How do you think my father will react knowing that I’m gone?”

Alfred gave a laugh. “Angry. But hey, he got his kingdom back. And guess what?”  
“... what?”

“At least I still got something worth half a kingdom to me,” Alfred winked. Arthur blushed.   
“Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Posted March 1, 2018_


End file.
